Crimson Tears
by Jaynus
Summary: Set in FFT world, a young samurai is on a quest for vengence. Classes and locations only real tie in to the game.
1. Crimson Tears bring Rebirth

Authors Note: Final Fantasy Tactics is a trademark of Squaresoft, not me.  
The soul of a samurai lies in his blade. The last words my father ever bestowed upon me, where not lessons in life, or words of love and encouragement, (heaven knows he was not the type of man to do that) but rather more teachings and philosophy into his true love in life, his class and heritage.  
  
My father was raised in the same fashion that his father, and his father's father were raised, with strict discipline and never-ending training into the ways of the samurai. For centuries, my family's lineage has sworn fealty and service to the Emperor of Solstar, and the Makasa dynasty, as royal guards to the throne. Protecting the Emperor's dynasty from harm has been the honor and triumph of my family for so long, that many around the kingdom have deemed my blood as divine. God-chosen protectors for the noble Emperor, we have been blessed with wealth and admiration.  
  
Yet I have never known this life. My childhood was not spent within the halls and passages of the Emperor's grand castle, catered by servants, and forged in the wake of awe and respect. No, my childhood was spent in the troughs with the pigs, filling their bellies with slop; before heading out to the fields of our farm, where half my day, from dawn to dusk, was spent working fields of grain and rice. Just to have my worn and tired body return to my father's work shed, where he'd assault my mind with reading and writing, and most importantly the teachings and doctrine of the samurai code. Once my senses were frayed thin from my schooling, only then would he allow me to train with him in those last twilight hours of the night, sword in hand since the age of five.  
  
When then did my father's destiny change? When did my family's honor fall from grace and become stained with the fecal matter of pigs and cows; a little over two decades ago, just months after my birth, with the assassination of Hinreo Makasa, thirteenth Emperor of the Makasa dynasty.  
  
Led astray from his post by a decoy assassin, the Emperor's protectors were overrun, and the Emperor's head rolled down the steps of the palace entrance. Accused of collaboration with the group responsible for the coup of the throne, my father was forced to flee from the palace by the last supporters of the Makasa dynasty, before the drooling babe in his arms suffered the same neck-slitting fate of his mother. Traveling south, to the outskirts of the kingdom, my father settled in the tiny rural community of Limberry, beginning his new career as farmer.  
  
Though I never knew the exact details of my father's failure, (his shame was always to great to dwell further into the events) I knew that his accusations were lies. My father was a shining light in my life, raising me with skill and respect for earth and life. I have much admiration for that man. Yet he is gone now, slaughtered protecting me in our own farm.  
  
I remember the night all too clearly, eight lifeless years ago. It's haunting presence will forever be a part of me, forever guiding me, forever forging me in the fires of revenge and hate. The glimpses of ancient blue samurai garb, blood-soaked sword in hand are burnt into my soul; the woeful slashes of the evil samurai's blade ripping into my father plague my dreams; and the tears of crimson from my father's blade soothing my engulfed being, continually grant me hope. My father's body became a shield of flesh and bone that night, and he saved my life. Using the last ounce of his strength, he called upon the spirit of his Heaven's Cloud and, my wounds were healed. With them my purpose was solidified. I will find my father's killer; I will avenge my father's death! I Jaynus Rino swear it! 


	2. The road to Ivalice is set in water

Salty cold air. Standing on the deck of the Igros Impaler, I stare out into the ocean, and breathe in the salty cold air. The waters of the north are much more different than the humid sloshy waters of Limberry. The water here seems to serve only one major function, to house vessels and produce large impractical fish, so different than the tuna housing waters of the east. The water produces different foods as well, as I have yet to see one rice field on the northern coast of Ivalice.  
  
Funny that I'm going on about nothing, and trying my best to not think about the real reason I'm heading to Igros. After being in the dark for so long about who my father's murderer was, I've finally found a lead. No more aimless questions and searches, my life finally has direction, for the first time in years. Rumor has it that there is a seer in Garland Magic City who is capable of reading images and talking to the souls of departed ones. All you need is an item of value from the deceased, and you can once again meet with lost ones. I finally have a lead.  
  
Holding up my father's Heaven's Cloud, my heart is filled with anticipation.  
  
Anticipation, is that the best I can do? When is the last time I've been happy? Heck even content. Soon, maybe. Once I've finally get my revenge. Only then can I be content, only when my father's killer's head lies at my feet. Huh..is there really any purpose to life? Or is it all just duty?  
  
Staring out into the dark night, I gaze at the glistening reflections of the moon and stars; and my mind begins to wander, wander to another night when the sky was littered with stars, and the moon was full.  
  
"Where are we going daddy?"  
  
"Sensei son, call me sensei when we're training."  
  
"Sorry, where are we going sensei?"  
  
"To the lake Jaynus. I'm going to tell you about the essence and spirit of the samurai heart."  
  
The moon cascades an immense round eye on the surface of the lake near our farm. Ripples slowly disfiguring its image, the eye of the moon stares back at a boy in his early preteens. Sitting crossed legged in front of my imposing father, I meditate on the lesson my father is teaching, even though he's yet to say a word. Eyes closed and mind blank, I hear my father speak at last.  
  
"Are you ready to accept the lesson? Are your mind and spirit empty, ready to be filled with the drink of wisdom?"  
  
"Yes sensei. I am focused."  
  
"Very well, let us begin."  
  
Coming to a stand, my father unsheathes his katana, and lays it flat on the moist grass.  
  
"The soul of a samurai lies in his blade Jaynus, and in becoming one with your blade, a samurai's true power is released. A samurai must be of complete focus and peace, in order to truly become one with his soul. A samurai must feel the essence of life inside him, must feel the essence of peace within him; only then will he be able to call upon his soul, the soul of his blade. You must reach tranquility in order to achieve our true power, do you understand?"  
  
"Yes sensei."  
  
"Then show me."  
  
Opening my eyes with a slight startle, I can see that my father is solemn. His face is blank, emotionless. He is neither supportive nor unhelpful; he is merely an observer, a teacher. Till this point my training had simply been techniques and forms, I had never tried to release the essence of a blade before. I knew of the power. I had even seen it a few times when my father was helping to heal our animals, but I'd never considered trying it.  
  
"Jaynus, focus!"  
  
Slamming back into reality, I began to concentrate. I began to try and feel my essence, to feel my life force, and try and manifest it into my father's sword. I failed. Over and over again I failed. I couldn't see or feel anything. There was simply a blade lying in the grass, not a soul waiting to be unleashed. For hours I sat in concentration and effort, my father remaining silent and observant, occasionally reminding me to focus and concentrate. But I could not do it; I could not make it work.  
  
For three months we went out to the lake at night. My physical training came to a complete stop, my father would not continue till I reached this milestone. He wouldn't discourage me, but he wouldn't offer any advice or aid. This was my test, my test alone. And I knew it.  
  
Finally one night something was different. Instead of only his Heaven's Cloud, he brought along an item wrapped in cloth. During our meditation it lay by his side, motionless, an enigma of gray cloth.  
  
I couldn't meditate, I kept staring at it, wondering what it was. Finally when it came down to trying to release the spirit of the Heaven's Cloud, my nerves were shattered.  
  
For the first two hours, I failed to release the sword. I failed and degraded further and further, losing any ground and insight I may have gained during the three months of practice. I could see that my father was getting upset. "Jaynus, you must focus. What's the matter with you? You're doing poorly."  
  
"Sensei, I can't do it. I can't concentrate."  
  
"Is it because of this?"  
  
Bringing the wrapped item to my face, I could only nod in agreement.  
  
"Because of this. Jaynus, do you no what this is?"  
  
"No sensei."  
  
"It is your mother's. It is her Kodachi."  
  
Opening the wrapping around the knife, I could see the small elegant knife. Longer than I regular knife, the Kodachi was more a short sword than anything, and it was beautiful.  
  
"If this is more important to you than your training, so be it. Bringing the kodachi up over his head, my father swiftly brought it down, into his gut."  
  
"Father!"  
  
Trying to scramble to my feet, my father's voice bellows, "Sensei! I am your sensei. Now sit down! If you want to aid me, then you better call upon the blade's soul. Release her crimson tears Jaynus, or this farm will be yours."  
  
Shocked and frightened, I shook into a cross-legged stance, and I tried to regain my composure. Watching my father sway from the loss of blood, I tried my best. I tried with all my might, focusing, concentrating, pleading with the blade to help me, but I couldn't do it. I failed, and my father crumpled to the ground, the loss of blood taking away his consciousness. With overwhelming shame and grief, I began to cry, letting everything go. I let go of all my thoughts and feelings, I simply cried uncontrollably, and the blade joined me.  
  
I slowly rising black mist began to emit itself from the blade, forming a cloud of black and gray three feet off the ground. Tiny drops of crimson begin to dance down in a slow rhythmic pattern, eventually growing in strength to a rainfall of blood colored tears. Immediately I felt my energy and stamina return, and my father's wound seemed to close, the color on his face returning. It rained for a minute or so, before the mist just disappeared, any a teenage boy was left sitting beside his peacefully resting father.  
  
I learned to summon the spirit of a blade that night, but it was not enough to save my father a second time.  
  
DING! DING!  
  
Looking behind me, I can see the night shift sentry ring the final bell of the night. The patrons are now to head into the cabin for the night. Turning from the bow of the ship, I head down the stairs towards my cot, and prepare myself for the morning. Because when I awake again, I'll be in Igros. 


	3. Memories of a dark day

Blue rain. I don't know if rain is actually blue or not, but that's the color it seems to apparently take during its course from heaven to earth. What I am certain of is this, rain is not crimson. Rain is not the color of death. Rain is life giving, rain is pure. Yet, rain is cold, and rain is hampering. And on that dreadful night my life was shaped, the rain was hampering, the rain was the color of death.  
  
It was my birthday. I was 14. My father had celebrated the day of my birth with a simple yet thoughtful gift, he had given me the afternoon off. I couldn't remember the last time I had some free time; it was always cleaning, cooking, and tending the farm, but he gave me the afternoon, and of course I wasted it away. I went down to the stream that flowed at the edges of our farm, and brought along my father's fishing rod. Laying there on the grass, nestled underneath a giant oak tree, I cast my unbaited hook into the stream, and dreamed of a life of comfort, a life of meaning. A life where I was next in line to defend the emperor, a life where my family's name of Rino was still respected, still important. How foolish of me, to spend the last hours of my father's life as far away from him, and the life he had provided for me.  
  
Once the sun had begun its final decent of the day, I decided to return home, and try to get some last farm work in, before the stars and moon claimed the night. Yet when I reached our fields, the blazing orange and reds I saw were not from the coming dusk, but from the fire scorching my entire existence.  
  
Our house, our home, was burning right in front of my eyes, and the fire was beginning to reach the fringes of our crops. I desperately ran to the water well and vainly tried to stop the monster before it consumed our entire livelihood; but I failed, and our farm was ruined. Staggering and shocked from our loss, my mind shifted to my father. Frantically I ran to the burning corpse of house, and strained my sights into the inferno, hoping to see a glimpse of my father. Nothing. So I ran to the back of the house, calling, searching for my father; yet there was still nothing, and my heart was beginning to break.  
  
Heading out into the last remains of our crops, the sky cracked, and mother earth began to cry. Tears mixing with the rain, I lost myself in the last few stalks of grain; and I fell to my knees, despair overwhelming me. It was at that point, when I heard the voice of the devil himself.  
  
"You must be Jaynus. Tell me Jaynus, do you think that today is a good day to die?"  
  
Turning towards the mysterious voice, I was meet with the most debilitating pain I'd ever experienced, as a katana ripped through my body, clean through to the back. All I saw of my assailant, was his dark blue armor, and my blood streaking down his stainless steel blade, gathering into a puddle at his gloved fist. Bringing his arm and blade down, he allowed me to slowly slide off his blade, the excruciating pain causing me to gurgle a mixture of blood and scream.  
  
Hitting the ground felt like dying, it felt like being born, it felt like the most intense sense of pain and relief you can ever imagine. To this day, I awake in a wail, the experience, the horror of absolute pain burnt into my mind and soul. People ask me why I don't smile.  
  
Laying there, cold and aching, I could only see my attacker's blade dripping my blood, slowly hitting the ground, a thick crimson tear. He was simply standing there, watching me die. No laughter, no remorse, just a sadistic intent in watching life perish. Fading out of consciousness, I caught the last glimpse of my father. Sword in hand, he wobbled in front of the assailant, and charged the dark man. Holding his own, my father pushed the murderer back. Showing me a skill I'd never seen him possess, my father's blade danced, slicing and striking the monstrous man. Yet the intruder was a master as well, and slowly my father began to tire.  
  
"Life in the farm has sucked the skills out of you Kainan."  
  
Before I could blink, the devilish man raised his dark blade, and an explosion of dark energy struck my father, bringing him to his knees. Eyes wide, I saw the dark man bring his blade downward, a clean stroke to my father's back. Time appearing to slow, my father fell, face first into the dirt, sword bouncing lifeless from his hands. Stepping into the shadows, the dark man disappeared, taking everything from me.  
  
Slowly, my father stirred, and he crawled his way to me, picking up his Heaven's Cloud along the way. Rising to his knees, he grimaced brining the blade over his head. Slowly, the dark mist of the Heaven's Cloud began to form overhead, bringing with it the tears of the spirit of the blade, the tears of my father. The all too familiar sight of blue rain mixed with crimson tears, and with his last ounce of strength, he summoned the power of life, and healed my wound, sacrificing himself. My father was injured, he was rusty, it was my fault. He had to work the farms, he had to raise me, he lost his skill because of me. He begged the spirit of the Heaven's Cloud to heal me and only me, sacrificing the precious healing tears meant for himself, and using them on me, ensuring that I was spared.  
  
I lost my father and my own identity that night. Here I lie, in a cot on a vessel destined to the lands my father used to war with. All to avenge his death. A mere few hours remain of the night, but I can't sleep. I can never sleep. The nightmares return when I sleep, the vision of that fateful night haunt me. I am forced to stay awake till I pass out from exhaustion, only then will my rest be peaceful. Overhead I hear the cries and squawks of seagulls, land is near. 


End file.
